


Spooked Spencer

by ancalime8301



Series: Spencer Stories [49]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Cats, Community: watsons_woes, Gen, Moving, Pets, Sherlock Holmes's Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 18:17:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15442974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancalime8301/pseuds/ancalime8301
Summary: Watson begins sorting everything in anticipation of moving. Spencer is intrigued . . . at first.





	Spooked Spencer

**Author's Note:**

> For watsons_woes July Writing Prompt #26: _A Logical Conclusion. Holmes is usually the logic-driven character, but other characters can be logical too. Let someone other than Holmes be the logical one today. Bonus point if it’s Watson!_

As soon as Holmes announced that he would be retiring, I began the process of sorting my belongings. While there were reasons for each possession, not everything would be worth moving to our new location. That we'd have room for multiple items of sentimental value was a luxury I didn't have in the army.

Our books were my first target, as the heaviest to move and the easiest to dispose of. Holmes was a half-hearted participant, reluctant to be rid of anything that might prove useful; our compromise was to keep some until he was finished taking cases, then I would make them disappear.

Spencer enjoyed curling up in the satchel I used to take books to the librarian at St. Bart's (who promised to use or dispose of them as appropriate). He also investigated the shelves as I emptied them and rearranged what remained.

After a while, the sorting and gradual disappearance of familiar items seemed to unnerve him and he vanished for days. Even Mrs. Hudson didn't see him at the usual times. The only indication of his continued health was the dead animals he'd leave in the night, usually on Holmes' footwear. 

Holmes endured this treatment with more amusement than annoyance until Lestrade sent for us early one morning and he put his foot squarely into a disemboweled stoat. He muttered imprecations as he changed his socks, threatening to trap Spencer and give him a stern talking-to. His bad temper only lasted until the case occupied his full attention, but I continued contemplating the reason for Spencer's unusual behavior.

When we arrived home in the early afternoon, the case neatly resolved, Spencer was curled up on my armchair, traces of blood matted in the fur on his face. I hurried to check over him and was relieved to find no injuries; the blood probably belonged to the stoat. He purred as I wiped off his fur and stroked him from nose to tail.

"So our hunter has finally returned. What does he have to say for himself?" Holmes had stopped to speak with Mrs. Hudson and only just returned to the sitting room.

"I think he's afraid we're going to abandon him," I said with a sudden flash of insight. "Oh, Spencer, we wouldn't leave you behind." Then I had another thought. "Oh, dear. Holmes, we're going to need some way to transport him when we move."


End file.
